Tea is for Healing
by Ariels Lament
Summary: It was a dream come true! Which is why Havoc couldn't for the life of him figure out why he and the rest of the crew were so very unhappy about it all.Two shot.


**A/N: I actually started working on this about two years ago, right after Useless, but I fell out of it. I got the opportunity to catch up on the new anime recently, though, and I really felt the inspiration to find it and finish it. It's still not quite finished yet. There's another half to it, what was originally supposed to be the main part of the entire thing, but when I was typing it out, it seemed like a good ending point for the moment. The next chapter is in Roy's POV. Hope you guys enjoy! :)**

**Also, FMA is completely not mine.**

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The chief looked like hell, and Havoc hadn't been the only one in the office to notice. The weirdest part was that for the last couple of weeks or so, he'd been working himself harder than anyone in the office had ever seen.

Hawkeye hadn't needed to berate him for anything at all. Fuery's important paperwork was instantly favored, completed, and returned, without complaint, before the young Master Sargent had made it back to his own desk. Breda's reports were looked over for completion and returned the next day without a word, notes written in the margins if anything was needed. Falman was almost constantly on the move filing and delivering messages throughout the building. As for Havoc, himself? He'd managed a _third_ date already with that cute clerk at the grocery store nearby.

It was a dream come true!

Which is why he couldn't for the life of him figure out why he and the rest of the crew were so very unhappy about it all.

Everything was running smoothly, efficiently, and their department was becoming favored throughout HQ for it. There was an unusual absence of snarky remarks in the office—not coming from the Colonel, in any case; but then again, there was an unusual absence of _any_ kind of remark from the Colonel these days. He spoke only when he needed to relay a message or if he was spoken to. Well, sometimes when he was spoken to. Usually only in the case of the higher ranks.

No one dared ask him how he was doing. That was probably because one look was all that was needed to tell, and if _Mustang _of _all _people was still coming in to work in that state, it wasn't likely he would leave willingly. The dark circles under his eyes gave away his exhaustion, despite the fact that he finished his work well before the end of the day. After that, he kept himself busy in other ways.

He had achieved the unthinkable and organized the filing cabinets and his desk. The plants had failed to go thirsty for the last two weeks. He would often strike out to sanitize all the desks in the room regardless of who was working at them and what was covering them. The windows were spotless; and when he'd run out of things to do yesterday, the Colonel had scattered the contents of the bookshelf violently about the room before setting out to retrieve and alphabetize them once more.

Under normal circumstances, Havoc was certain that Hawkeye would have gone about verbally abusing their superior for such an disruptive act. But she sat quietly, and the split moment of eye contact the two Lieutenants shared showed him clearly that she was just as lost and confused as the rest of them. She had even confessed to finding him already in the office several times on days she came in early, and worried that he didn't even go home some nights. As far as Jean Havoc was concerned, if Riza Hawkeye couldn't do anything for the Colonel, there was no hope anyone else in the group could.

He didn't leave for lunch most days, and, from the looks of it, it wasn't likely he partook in many of his other meals very often either. It was a relief when the 1st Lieutenant had cracked down today and coaxed the man into going to the cafeteria with Breda, who had loudly announced that he was going to lunch. He'd stared pointedly at Mustang all the while, waiting for a response and frowning when none came.

Thankfully, it didn't take her long to talk some sense into him. He said he didn't have time. She told him he had had almost nothing _but_ time lately, which he had thus far used to terrorize the office. There was an exchange of scowls, eventual soft smiles, and soon enough, the Colonel was leaving side by side with the 2nd Lieutenant.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Havoc returned to his own paperwork, but in the midst of the office drama, he had forgotten that it was finished.

"Tea? Coffee?" he offered as he handed Hawkeye his report. She looked up at him with tired eyes, and it pained him to see the toll that whatever this thing going on with the Colonel was taking on her.

"Tea-" she took the papers from him with a grateful smile "-would be wonderful."

He returned the smile with one of his own before making his way out the door. The 2nd Lieutenant rubbed the back of his head in thought as he navigated the corridor to the nearest break room. A cork board covered with obituaries caught his eye. With the ongoing uprisings on the western boarder, there was always guaranteed to be a new military ceremony scheduled to take place. He heaved a defeated sigh, tore his eyes from the board, and walked on. The break room was just around the corner. It was more of a closet, really. A closet that happened to have a coffee pot and a few other various drink items. Havoc filled the pot with water and rummaged through the cabinets for a few tea bags. He might as well have the same as Hawkeye.

"Man, I need a smoke," he muttered to himself. He leaned back against the door frame while he waited and within minutes walked back out it, a steaming cup of tea in both hands. Again the cork board drew his eyes toward it like a magnet. This time, however, a familiar date popped out among the rest. He froze in his tracks. If his mouth had been harboring the cigarette he most desperately craved, it would surely have fallen, forgotten, to the floor.

The answer to the Colonel's state of mind hit him more forcefully than any physical blow ever had—it was_ grief_. Grief was causing him to act this way. Or, perhaps, it was his attempt to distract himself from it. Either way, the revelation was shameful.

"We should have known," the man growled, anger and guilt and more than just a little bit of self disgust gathering within him. "Dammit! How the hell did none of us—you'd think at least one of us would have—why didn't anyone realize!?"

And with a newfound purpose, Jean Havoc rushed back through the hallways, determined to set things the way they should be.

As such, it was only natural for the 2nd Lieutenant to happen upon chaos that would sweep his newfound passion to the back of his mind.

The sound of anxious chatter wafted from the office's open doorway. Havoc blinked once. Then he blinked again. But even that did not change the odd scenario before him. In the center of the room stood Major Armstrong, and in the Major's hands, boots barely scraping the floor and hanging by the collar of his uniform, was a rather limp looking Colonel Mustang. Any other time, the sight would have been hysterical and certainly an opportunity for blackmail; but right now, with all hell breaking loose as Hawkeye and Breda rushed about in worry to clear a desk for their superior's unconscious form, as they attempted to rescue the dangling man from the muscled alchemist's grasp, as she questioned the Major while he tended to the suffering Colonel, Havoc was pretty sure he had never seen anything so _not_ hysterical in his entire life.

"Hey, Falman, what did I miss?"

The older man opened his mouth to speak, but Fuery beat him to it.

"The Colonel passed out on his way back from the cafeteria. He'd told the 2nd Lieutenant to go ahead of him, but luckily the Major caught him and brought him here."

A quick glance away from Falman's frown and Fuery's sheepish look showed Mustang to be coming back around with Breda's help. Making way for the Major, Havoc walked straight to the 1st Lieutenant and handed her the tea.

"Listen, Hawkeye, the chief looks like he's been killing himself. If he doesn't get any downtime we're all going to go crazy." He beckoned her closer and she complied. "Plus, I just realized. It's nearing a year since Hughes..."

He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, and crimson eyes widened, the same feelings he recently experienced crossing over her own features before she looked back to the Colonel.

"I'll watch over things here. Take whatever time you need to get him home and to sleep. In fact, don't bother coming back this afternoon at all."

The smile this earned him practically radiated gratitude.

"Are you giving me orders, 2nd Lieutenant?"

He grinned back and shrugged.

"What can i say? Somebody has to keep the chief out of trouble. You're pretty much our only hope."


End file.
